


Make a wish

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Love, Quest of Erebor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin cuddles with his love during the night watch and gets teased by Thorin about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a wish

There was a breath of autumn’s crispness in the night air, and you cradled the steaming mug in both of your hands to enjoy its warmth as you quietly picked your steps among the bedrolls of your companions on the cool, leafy ground to walk toward the figure silhouetted by the glow of the campfire.

The fire cast a play of light and shadow over a bald pate and craggy face, and the bushy beard was stirred by a smile as you approached the wide stump that served him as a seat, offering the cup with its handle toward him.

“Care for your tea, Mister Dwalin?” 

The affectionate cheekiness in your tone broadened his smile, and he took the cup, carefully setting it beside him on the stump.

“Aye,” he grinned, reaching to catch your hand, “and something sweet to go with it.”

You giggled as he drew you smoothly to his lap before picking up the tea again, blowing on its surface and taking a grateful swallow.

Dwalin sighed contentedly, bringing the cup to your lips, and you gladly shared the strong, black tea, its heat lingering on his mouth when he kissed you and settled you more snugly into the circle of his brawny arms.

“Thank you, _ghivâshel_ ,” he murmured, and the two of you subsided into comfortable silence, staring into the crackling flames and listening to the chirp of crickets and sporadic whispers of conversation among the few dwarves who were still awake.

You smothered a yawn behind your hand, and Dwalin chuckled low. 

“You’re tired, love…you don’t have to keep watch with me.”

“I want to,” you said stubbornly, nestling closer to his chest. “I’d rather be tired with you than go to sleep alone.”

His cheek plumped against your temple before he turned to graze your forehead with a bristly kiss. He was pleased, yes, but there was that flicker of wonder that always tinged his smile when you reminded him so shamelessly that you loved him, wanted him.

“Then stay with me you shall,” he purred, and you happily rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of leather and tobacco and Dwalin that meant home, no matter where you were.

You fell quiet again, Dwalin’s watchful eyes scanning the forest around you while you gazed dreamily up at the night sky and its glittering sprinkling of stars. Suddenly, one sprightly star shot across the velvety blackness, leaving a wispy trail of light in its wake, and you gave a little gasp and nudged Dwalin’s arm.

“Did you see it? A falling star.” 

“Aye,” he nodded. “’Twas a beauty.”

“Did you make a wish?” 

His chest rumbled with a quiet huff of laughter. “With you in my arms, what more could I wish for?” 

Oh, but even as he said the words, his heart made him a liar, painting a vivid picture of what more he desired…a snug house and a sturdy bed, loving embraces beneath patchwork quilts, shared meals in a cozy kitchen, fond kisses to welcome him home at day’s end and little ones playing on the hearthrug.

Your fingers stroked his beard tenderly, and you raised your head to kiss his cheek, to smile at him with open, breathtaking adoration.

Love swelled in his chest almost beyond bearing, leaving him wordless, but the light in his eyes and the language of his lips pressed fervently to yours was as eloquent a declaration as any poem.

* * *

Morning dawned clear and cold, and Dwalin watched you banter cheerfully with Bofur over washing the cooking pots with an uncharacteristically dreamy smile softening his rugged face.

“How was your watch?” Thorin’s voice startled him from his reverie, and he quickly returned his attention to stirring up the fire, arranging his features into a more businesslike expression.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged.

“That’s not what it looked like,” Thorin said, a smirk tugging at his lips, and when Dwalin only scowled in response, Thorin continued to prod his friend. “Were you hoping to see the approach of an enemy reflected in your lady’s eyes?”

“So help me, Thorin, I will get my axes.”

Thorin’s amused smile grew wider. “When are you going to give the lass her betrothal bead and have done with it?”

“Do you see any tools out here?” Dwalin threw an exasperated glance at the surrounding wilderness. “Any mines, or forges?”

“No, indeed…but I suspect that either you or Balin has your mother’s beads tucked away somewhere among your things,” Thorin answered slyly.

“That is for me to know and you to find out,” Dwalin warned, though a grin lurked among his whiskers, “and since you’re not King yet, I’ll tell you to mind your own business while I still can.”

Thorin chuckled, clapping Dwalin good-naturedly on the shoulder before leaning closer to speak in hushed tones. “Should you decide that you can’t wait until we reach Erebor to make her your lady wife, I’m sure Balin remembers how the ceremony is conducted,” he said smugly, and Dwalin rolled his eyes and shoved him on his way to rouse the company to the day’s march.

Dwalin turned again to the fire, poking the embers and smothering them with ash, and after a quick glance around at the rest of the bustling dwarves, he ducked his head to hide the smile that crept irresistibly over his face as he tested the sweet words in a low murmur.

_“My lady wife.”_


End file.
